Monday

Well, here we are after a whirlwind weekend. This week is going to be pretty crazy, so hold on. After this, things should calm down…for a few weeks.

Traveling: New category!

Yes, two of us had a 24-hour trip related to college matters. Because of the challenges of flying from here to our destination – neither huge, things were rather roundabout, especially returning. Let it just be said, that we went from here to Dallas to Kansas City to freaking MIAMI then back here in that 24-hour span. But all the flights were on time, there were no weather issues, the task was completed and everything went smoothly.

Two side benefits from the trip – seeing this wonderful painting, which I could meditate on for a very long time – and running, completely unexpectedly, into a friend from the other end of the country.

Reading: I wanted to travel super light, so all I took for reading material was my Kindle, which, I discovered, doesn’t have much on it at the moment. I had left it in a hotel room in South Carolina a few weeks back, then reset it remotely since I didn’t think I’d ever get it back – when, surprise, surprise, the hotel did, indeed take the time to pack it up and return it to me. So I had to resync it to my account, but I guess it didn’t resync as much as I thought it had or something…so there was hardly anything on it.

The Woman in White isn’t what I expected. I thought it was a tale of the supernatural, for some reason, but…it isn’t. It’s the usual Collins: a deep dive into social and cultural hypocrisy, with a keen eye for women’s suffering.

A few of you know that yesterday was the 10th anniversary of my late husband Michael’s death. Thanks to those of you who’ve communicated with me about it. It was fine, mostly because I’m a Christian and after ten years, if it’s not fine – earthly loss – there’s some spiritual work to be done, for sure.

In the morning, our two sons – 4 and 7 years old when their father died and now 14 and 17 – served Mass at Casa Maria convent and retreat house.

I sat in this small chapel space, positioned so that I saw them were in profile, with the celebrant between them.

In the months after Mike’s death, I would often search their faces, seeking evidence of him, that in some way, through them, he was still around. That’s what you do after sudden loss, in particular. You’re always looking for them for a while. Loss surprised you. Maybe life will surprise you, too.

Of course, I stopped doing that a long time ago, as we all should. That is – we don’t look to our children to be anything or anyone else, to represent. They are who they are.

But yes, I admit, standing, sitting and kneeling there on Sunday, I did study them, consider them and think about it. Between them, there’s a lot of him still wandering the earth. His intelligence, his gift of seeing the whole picture and bringing a plan together, his insane gift for mimicry and fondness for it, his matter-of-factness about life, and, I hope and pray, his quality of living out loud, embracing the goodness of life, but at the same time, grasping onto it but lightly, knowing and trusting in what – Who – is eternal.

And then the priest – Fr. Joseph Mary – started preaching and it brought me up a little short because he began by alluding to the story of a priest who had survived a very serious heart attack. Well that’s weird I thought. Why are you talking about this today? Because those of us who’ve lost people to heart attacks tend to resent those kind of stories. I resent them, not for myself, but more for those boys up there.

So why was he talking about it right then, on that day? Because …he did. That’s exactly why. For the homilist’s point was about why those of us who are still here, roaming around on the earth, are, indeed still here.

We have work to do. Is what he said. We have work to do.

And he alluded to the second reading, from Paul, and the way he treated and mused over love…does not brood over injury brought me up short. I’ve always thought of that phrase in the context of one person hurting another: forgiveness. This homilist’s words broke that open. How many ways are we hurt and damaged over the course of a life? So many, and most of them are not because of what another person has done to us out of malice. We’re injured by circumstances and loss and weakness and just the rocky strangeness of life on earth.

But love: the love that lives in us, the love God pours into us – doesn’t brood over any of these injuries. For what did the Gospel tell me, right after that? That all of this – the promise of healing and hope – has been fulfilled in your hearing.

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What a lovely post. Your reflection about the period after your husband’s death was particularly touching and poignant. (Because, yes, life has surprised me in a difficult way.) I loved, loved, loved The Woman in White when I read it years ago. I could not get through The Moonstone though. And I read Armadale, which I remember liking at the time. I have been trying to find a book that will capture my attention lately. I finally settled on Death Comes for the Archbishop, and Cather’s portrayal of the Catholic Church is marvelous.